


In Storm or Calm

by ReaperWriter



Series: I Thee Wed [1]
Category: Carnival Row (TV)
Genre: F/M, Introspection, Post-Canon, Speculation, post-Season 1, relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-14
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2021-01-30 11:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21427660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReaperWriter/pseuds/ReaperWriter
Summary: Imogen had often imagined her wedding as a little girl. In all her imaginings, it never went quite like this.
Relationships: Agreus Astrayon/Imogen Spurnrose
Series: I Thee Wed [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1544737
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	In Storm or Calm

**Author's Note:**

> I was never a little girl who dreamed of a wedding (I played the divorce lawyer on the playground) and trying to plan my own later was...stressful. But I suspect Imogen Spurnrose is exactly the type of girl who would have. 
> 
> I plan to do a little run of these. It's good to be writing fic again. Thanks for reading!

As a little girl, Imogen had dreams of the perfect wedding. One of the finest Martyr’s temples, the ceremony timed so that the light of day played through the stained glass just so. The smell of hot house flowers dueling with the incense and perfume of the fine society ladies seated in row upon row of seats filling the air. A confection of a dress in the finest silk and lace. Not bone white. Not with Imogen’s complexion. No, skin such has hers called for a cream with peach undertones. And at her throat, her dearly departed Mama’s pearl’s.

A fine velvet runner of deepest crimson would muffle her footsteps up the aisle. Hers and her bridesmaids. She imagined at least half a dozen, but as long as she had more than Louisa, it didn’t really matter. And Papa on her arm. Papa giving her away to a groom who was always the haziest part of the dream. A vague picture of young and handsome, virile and wealthy. One of their sort. Appropriate for her. Of their kind. 

And then a wedding meal to be spoken of for months afterwards. A dozen courses. Wine. Champagne. Ices and cakes, roasts and fishes and delicacies. Everything a delight for the eyes and the nose and the tongue. Dancing after. Finally, the wedding night.

She’d lost Papa first. Dead and gone to join Mama in the afterlife.

Then Mama’s pearls, sold quietly by Ezra to help cover a business loss. He promised he’d buy her new pearls. Better pearls. Just as soon as business turned around. The next venture. The next win.

Mama’s pearls.

Mama’s rings.

Papa’s watch.

Imogen’s dowry.

Ezra thought she didn’t know that last bit, but how could she not. How could she be ignorant when the interest in her on the marriage mart suddenly dried up like a creek in a drought. Young men who had played court to her now hardly looked. And nothing else had changed.

Well, except perhaps her tongue. Hours passed to days. Days to weeks. Weeks to months. With each, Imogen imagined the bloom fading off of her, like petals off a rose. Each moment, some newer, fresher girl entered society. Some younger thing with manners and money. And Imogen walked in the square and took tea with her increasingly shrinking circle and slowly strangled day by day, her tongue growing sharp as a rose's thorn.

Until Agreus Astrayon took the house across the court from them and her world upended. 

“Are you sure, Imogen?”

The gruff voice in her ear sent a shiver down her spine, one of want and desire. One that had led her to abandon her place in society, her so-called friends. To turn on her brother, though she could see his own abandonment of her now as clear as day. An abandonment that began with her Mama’s pearls. 

To leave the only city she’d ever known behind.

She turned to her lover, one hand rising to trace the shape of his horns. He shuddered slightly under her touch. “I’ve never been surer of anything in this life.” Glancing at the man waiting for them, she nodded. “Captain, if you would.”

The captain nodded, flanked by two sailors as witnesses. “We gather here to witness the joining of these two souls in the state of matrimony. I am vested by the rights of maritime law and the traditions of the sea to make such a joining when a couple asks it of me freely and of their own will. Miss Imogen Spurnrose, do you come so freely and of your own will, to give yourself to be wed to this man, Agreus Astrayon, and to live as his wife from this day until the end of your days, in plenty or poverty, in ill or health, in storm or calm, forsaking all others”?

Imogen squeezed Agreus’s hand. “I do.”

“And do you, Mr Agreus Astrayon come freely and of your own will to give yourself to be wed to this woman, Imogen Spurnrose, and to live as her husband from this day until the end of your days, in plenty or poverty, in ill or health, in storm or calm, forsaking all others?”

Agreus stared at her for the longest moment and Imogen’s heart swooped in her chest like a bird when he finally rumbled, “I do.”

“Then by the power vested in me as Captain of this ship and by our mother Ocean, I say you are so wed. May you know a life of fair winds and fine seas.”

The two crew men nodded solemnly and then disappeared, leaving them. The Captain paused long enough to shake both their hands before returning to his own duties. Imogen looked at her husband and was surprised to find sorrow on his face. “Agreus? Do you regret it so soon? I hoped to have weeks before you thought better of the choice.”

Agreus shook himself, startled and stared at her. “Regret it? Imogen, you think I regret it?”

“Well, we’ve only just wed, and you look like you’ve come from a funeral.” Her dread grew. “You didn’t have to. If you truly didn’t wish to. I… I could have found my way, wherever we wash up. I’m not completely useless. I can sew and I am sure I could make a passable lady’s maid if it came to…”

“Gods, woman!”

Agreus grabbed her, pulling her to him and silencing her with a kiss, passionate and wild. Imogen startled, then fell into it, losing herself for a long few moments. When they finally broke apart, the heat of it left them both panting.

“My lady wife shall be no one’s maid and I shall never, ever regret her,” Agreus whispered, pressing his forehead to hers. “What I regret is robbing you of a real wedding. Of a gown and a wedding meal, the flowers and frippery and all. I am sure you imagined it.”

“I had,” Imogen admitted. “Many times. I suppose all young girls do.”

“You deserve better than the life I’ve led you into, Imogen.”

“And you deserve to be treated as more than a pair of horns and hooves,” she said, arms wrapping tightly around him. “What the Burge is, what it’s become, it’s a poison. I’d rather wed you here, like this a thousand times, then die slowly of its toxin there in a fancy dress in front of them all.”

Agreus sagged just a little in her arms. “If you are sure.”

“I am quite sure. Please trust me when I say so.”

“Very well, wife.”

Imogen smiled. “Wife. I quite like the sound of that.” Pulling back slightly. “Come, it’s getting cold. Let’s retire to our cabin, such as it is. I’d like to hear about how marriages are usually done among your people.”

Agreus chuckled. “It most likely sounds uncivilized in comparison.”

Imogen rose up on her toes, pressing a kiss to his check. “Good.”


End file.
